


Rock Me, Amadeus

by Jester85



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Cop Steve, Crack, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Superhero Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jester85/pseuds/Jester85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't even know.</p>
<p>This came spewing out from a writing prompt.</p>
<p>Basically, Steve is a detective, and Bucky is a makeshift (but apparently very competent) superhero.  Who fights ninjas.  While listening to Mozart.</p>
<p>Please don't kick me out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Me, Amadeus

Detective Steven Grant Rogers wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting when he pulled onto Bleecker Street with siren wailing and sprinted up the stairs until his asthma was crying Uncle and those funny black dots were dancing in his vision, but it definitely wasn't a bridal suite fit for visiting royalty filled with a dozen unconscious ninjas, a chandelier smashed across the floor like a fallen ice sculpture, and one guy who made the fittest guys at the community gym look like poster boys for the dangers of anorexia, standing nonchalantly amidst the havoc in yellow spandex that'd have to be peeled off of him like a sausage skin and a makeshift mask that looked like a Halloween mask he came up with as a beginner's assignment in a not particularly ambitious arts and crafts class, leaning casually against the only intact bedpost. One gloved finger calmly removed an earbud plugged in through a strategically cut earhole, and the faint strains of "Dies Irae" drifted into the room.

"The music was a nice touch", Steve said, not knowing what else to say. What was the protocol when you've suddenly walked into a real-life superhero movie? And, most importantly, was it DC or Marvel? (he was a closet nerd, okay?).

Yellow Spandex quirked an eyebrow. Or, well, his mouth formed a smirk, and Steve deduced he was also quirking an eyebrow (he puts stuff together like that....it's why he's a detective).

"You like Mozart?"

"Oh yea," Steve replied instantly. If this was some real life superhero movie, like hell he was gonna get pigeonholed into the Commissioner Gordon role of the well-intentioned but kinda sorta clueless cop three steps behind the superhero. He had way more game than that. He was positive (he was pretty sure). "Für Elise is my jam."

The smirk deepened. (So, he suspected, did the accompanying eyebrow lift).

"Für Elise is Beethoven. But who's fact checking, right? Actually, Mozart is a little light for this kind of thing. I usually tend to go with the heavier guys, but I was just feelin' me some Amadeus tonight. Dies Irae is only really good for about two minutes though. But fortunately..."

He cast a sarcastic glance around the roomful of a dozen soundly sleeping ninjas.

"....I've never needed more than two minutes."

Was there suddenly a suggestive tone to Yellow Spandex's voice? Did he just turn ninja-fighting-set-to-Mozart into a sexual innuendo?  
YS was suddenly biting his bottom lip and sucking on it in a way that Steve felt sure was violating some public indecency law, somewhere.

"Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?" YS asked in his best Princess Leia impression. Which, given he was about 6'2" and 180 pounds and, ya know, wearing yellow spandex, wasn't the greatest, but he was quoting Star Wars, so Steve felt a nerdish tingle in his nether regions.

"Aren't you, uh," he switched to Officer Rogers Voice, complete with a gruff clearing of throat. Except he was still breathing hard from his sprint up the stairs, so it came out like he was trying to cough up a lung that had become lodged in his neck.

"Aren't you a little....1960s X-Men?" Steve waved his hand in the general direction of the yellow spandex, and not at all specifically in the direction of the not-at-all distracting bulge they were hugging like a mother at an airport who hadn't seen her child in years because she had been seeking political asylum from a Communist country, and Steve's ears were prickling with moisture, and no, you are not misting up in front of a yellow spandexed vigilante ninja-fighter! Gosh, this is even more embarrassing than when Natasha caught me crying to that penguin documentary.....I still blame Morgan Freeman.

"My costume is a proud homage to the glory days of the X-Men," YS responded, striking a defiant pose with chest thrust out and hands on hips and no other things thrusting out at all, no sirree, nothing to see down there...."I await the day when we will finally see a faithful adaptation brought to the screen."

"I hope Apocalypse at least makes Mystique Nightcrawler's mom," Steve admitted in the voice of one who has lost all hope but still somehow dares to dream.

Yellow Spandex rolled his eyes. Or, well, he tossed his head in a very eye-rolly sort of way. "Kinda hard when Mystique is like twenty when Kurt's a teenager in the '80s."

"Actually, she's the same age as Xavier," Steve pointed out with the air of a detective sniffing out a glaring hole in a suspect's story (he always loved those parts in detective movies). "They grew up together."

"Oh, yea," YS admitted grudgingly. "I guess I kind of tried to forget a movie that couldn't even bother to give Banshee his Irish accent."  
Cop and vigilante shared a moment of righteously indignant solidarity without even a hint of suffocating sexual tension.

"Do you always geek out over comics with ninja-fighting vigilantes?" YS asked, cocking his head playfully. He was biting his lip again. 

Steve giggled nervously and rubbed his heated neck. "I, uh, haven't exactly had many late-night encounters with ninja-fighting vigilantes."

"Really?" YS sounded all too interested in this information. "I guess I'll have to change that. But I am gonna have to run, because well, I am a vigilante, and you really should have arrested me, but we're obviously instead forming the Batman/Gordon dynamic. But this is really early in the movie. Audiences will expect the drawn-out dramatic tension where you're sort of unsure about me, but we have more meetings, and you decide I'm a good guy and then in the close, you watch proudly as I leap dashingly out into the night."

"Dashingly, huh?" Now Steve quirked an eyebrow. Which proved ineffectual, as he swiped away the blond bangs that had fallen over the eye doing said quirking.

"Maybe a little preview? To keep you tuning in next time?" Yellow Spandex leapt onto the window like a cat (at this point, Steve frowned in alarm, because he was pretty sure he'd forgotten Mr. Snuggles' food, and PetSmart was closed by now), and pulled off his mask. Long brown hair billowed proudly with the aid of a mysterious wind conveniently kicking in at that very moment, and the Dramatic Hair Toss YS sent his way. 

Shit, he was hot. And Steve had to admit, it was a very well-executed Dramatic Hair Toss. Natasha would be jealous.

"How will I find you again?" Steve asked, frowning inwardly at the way the line came out less like hard-hitting investigative work and more like a Victorian damsel.

Yellow Spandex pulled his mask down over his face, to the disappointment of Steve and female (and some male) viewers everywhere. "Watch for my sign," he said in his best Batman voice, then paused as he realized he didn't have a sign yet. But he was already on the window ledge. He couldn't very well climb back in and figure out a sign. The movie would lose its already fitful narrative momentum.

Too late now, he decided, and dashingly leapt out into the night. Dashingly. With a great deal of dash.

Steve's heart fluttered with long-dormant romantic desires.

Well, it could also be the heart murmurs.

But who's fact-checking, right?


End file.
